nonfiction

I hear the retching vomit and feel my breasts seize up. Even the mechanical waves of my pump can’t drown out the sick splattering on the linoleum floor under fluorescent lights. I’ve never understood fluorescent lights in schools. Research says they stress and strain, and yet they populate our buildings as if the sun might disappear one day. [keep reading]
This story began with a desire to write a relationship between two family members where, by the end, neither person could be considered “the good guy.” From there, the characters took shape in my mind quite quickly. Since Catherine’s big driver was to get as much distance from her mother as possible, I knew I needed to find a way to push them as close together as I could. [keep reading]

poetry